


Certain As the Sun

by themusicofmysoul



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: BatB!AU, F/M, Kinda messed up? You can only expect that where Ardyn is involved lbr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-19 08:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11894358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themusicofmysoul/pseuds/themusicofmysoul
Summary: A Beauty & the Beast inspired AU.  With the last of the Oracle line dead, the Starscourge has taken hold of the world, its ringmaster sitting on the Lucian throne at long last.  But there is more he desires as he awaits the return of the last in the line of Lucis, and the King's Shield stands between him and his prize.  The scourge is a curse, he knows that only too well, but one that takes time and patience to take hold in its host.  She may not wish to come to him willingly, but perhaps the slavering beast laying in wait behind her shield will send her scurrying into his waiting grasp.Time has, if nothing else, always been on his side, the endless stretch of eternity laid out before him like the desert sands, but a shield can rust and fade into dust, scattering to the wind like grains of sand, leaving its charge tragically unprotected.





	1. The Blight

When was the last time she had seen the stars?  The sun was easy enough to remember, even with how this perpetual night blurred the days—weeks,  _months_ —together.  She couldn’t pinpoint exactly how long ago the sun had last brightened the vast expanse of the sky, but she could still vividly recall the last time it had risen and set: the shadows it cast, the warmth on her skin, the bright glare upon the surface of the lakes and rivers.  Of course, the hell that erupted as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon for the last time made the day difficult to forget.

But as Syndra sat there beneath the void of pure, impenetrable darkness, she realized with a sudden tightness in her chest that she could not remember the last time she had so much as glimpsed a single star.  

She had always taken their sparkling presence for granted, hardly paying them any mind as they slowly began to blink into existence in the darkening sky.  To see the stars in Lucis was never really a good thing, anyway; it either meant you were lying within the confines of a rune adorned campsite, or too far from the lights of civilization for them to be drowned out—a less than appealing scenario for even the most seasoned hunters.

Syndra sighed, her fingers delicately running over the freshly sharpened edge of her dagger as she squinted at where she assumed the horizon to be.  It was impossible to tell if there was even a discernable horizon anymore, the black of the desert sands indistinguishable from that of the perpetual night sky.  She couldn’t help but wonder if the sailors on the high seas had felt this same smothering feeling in their chests as they looked out into the endless night before them, searching for even the slightest hint of land, a light on the horizon to guide them to safety.

The faint light from the Hammerhead stronghold glinted off the steel of her dagger, drawing her gaze to the small weapon.  Lighthouses.  They had worked for centuries to safely guide sailors to port, maybe it’d be a good idea to set up a few of those between outposts, give survivors and hunters a beacon to guide them to the nearest safe haven.

“ _There_  you are.”

A deep, gruff voice cut through the silence, ripping a yelp from her throat.  She spun around with practiced ease to face the source, her gleaming dagger slicing through the air as she turned.  A strong grip wrapped itself around her wrist, stopping her attack short as it angled the tip of her blade away, the voice finally registering in her mind.

“Whoa, whoa!”  Gladio stood before her in the dim light, his eyes wide and flickering rapidly between her own and the dagger in her hand, his grip on her wrist holding fast.  “Well, I’m glad to see your reflexes are sharp as ever.”

Syndra attempted to wrench herself out of his grasp, but to no avail, sighing in resignation as she allowed her taut muscles to relax.  “Just because you won’t take me out on hunts anymore doesn’t mean I’ve gotten lazy.”

A scowl fell over his features as he released her, “We’ve been over this.”

“You do realize the rickety iron fences surrounding Hammerhead won’t keep him out, right?”  She sheathed her dagger, frustration bleeding into her voice.  “If he really wanted me, nothing here would stop him.”

“I’d rather not deliver you to him on a silver platter,” Gladio snapped, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.  “I’m still not convinced the daemons don’t answer to him.”

“And keeping me hidden away is better?”  She fought to keep her voice down.  Outside the perimeter of Hammerhead, even just a few yards from the gate, they were vulnerable to any especially daring daemons loitering about.  “You and I both know that light has never hurt him, and, try as they might, I doubt any of the hunters here could so much as slow him down, especially considering what you’ve told me about him.”

“Why can’t you just listen to me?” he ground out.  He sounded exasperated, only making her anger burn hotter.  “I’m not trying to keep you locked away for myself, I’m  _protecting_  you!”

“Don’t insult me with that bullshit,” she said, her face growing hot.  “I can take care of myself, and I’d been doing a fine job of it before I met you.  I can help!  I can help with finding survivors, with overrun towns and villages.  Keeping me from going out on hunts is selfish and you know it.”

The silence that fell between them was deafening, the chilly air of the desert suddenly much more prominent than it had been moments before.  In the past few months since this unending darkness had fallen over the land, they had fought many times over his refusal to let her help in the fight against the daemons, but never had she resorted to such a low blow.  Even as she stood there before him, a long simmering frustration at last reaching its limit, she knew very well that Gladiolus Amicitia was anything but selfish.

But anger always had a way of making us hurt the ones we love.

He glared at her, his thick brows shading his eyes from view.  He opened his mouth to reply, the corners of his lips dipped downward in a deep frown, when a bone chilling roar echoed through the night.  They both froze, Syndra’s eyes going wide as her hand drifted down to where her dagger lay sheathed at her hip.  Gladio grabbed her by the elbow, tugging her back to the entrance to Hammerhead, the gate already open before they even reached it.  She didn’t bother fighting him, biting back whatever protests sat on her tongue as the gates shut with a soft  _clang_  behind them.  As much as she hated being locked away in one of the few strongholds left in Lucis, she had no intention of blindly putting either of them in danger.

Syndra made to tug her arm from his grip, but Gladio kept his hold on her.  She glared up at him, but her gaze softened upon seeing his face.  His lips were firmly pressed together in a thin line, the muscles of his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth, his brow furrowing, accentuating the deep scars that lined his handsome face.  A pang of guilt shot through her.

Gladio loosened his grip, allowing his hand to drift from her elbow down to her hand, cradling it delicately in his larger one.  She had always marveled at his strength, at the raw power that rippled just beneath his skin, at just how easily he could break her if he really wanted to.  But despite all of that, he had never so much as touched her with any more ferocity than that of an impassioned lover.  

He pointedly avoided her gaze as he spoke, choosing instead to focus on the hand he held in his own.  “I know it’s selfish.  I know.  And I’m sorry.  I really am.  You can hate me all you want, I don’t care.  I’d rather have you here, where I know you’re safe, and hating me, than…” he trailed off, his voice catching.  He finally lifted his gaze, meeting her own, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears. Syndra’s stomach felt like lead in her gut.

A sad smile formed on Gladio’s lips, a flash of white peeking out between them as his thumb gently caressed the back of her hand.  “The last time I sent someone I cared about to face Ardyn alone, he didn’t come back.”  He swallowed hard, bringing her hand up to brush his lips against the smooth, warm flesh.  “I can’t bare the thought of losing someone else to him.”

Syndra’s throat tightened, her eyes welling up with tears that threatened to spill over.  That’s right.  Gladio had told her what happened in Gralea, how Ardyn had separated them, taunted them in their quest to get Prompto back, only to force Noctis to split from them once they were all together again in order to find the crystal.  

They never saw him again.

Syndra took a deep, shaky breath, her hand tightening around his own as the corners of her lips twitched upward in a sad smile of her own.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean—”

Gladio tugged her to his chest, shushing her as he gently stroked her hair.  Syndra pressed her cheek against his solid torso, his strong, steady heartbeat a welcome balm on her frayed nerves, the calming rhythm hardly muffled through his thin, sleeveless shirt.  She had always told him how ridiculous he was for wearing such flimsy clothes, especially considering the life he led.  He had always just flashed a charming smile, followed by a wink and a showy flex of muscle.  

As he spoke, she felt his voice as much as she heard it, “You have every right to hate me.  I don’t fault you for that.  Just…” He sighed, pulling back just enough to look at her, his smile strained.  “Just trust me, alright?”

Syndra stared up at him, the utter sincerity in his face, the desperate plea in his usually commanding voice…

Of course she trusted him.  It wasn’t a matter of trust.  She just felt like, in all of his sudden over-protective paranoia, he hadn’t told her  _everything_.

But still, she smiled up at him, nodding as she reached up to grasp the hand that came to rest at the back of her neck.  Gladio’s shoulders sagged in relief, the hard lines in his face softening as he leaned down to kiss her forehead, mumbling a soft, sincere “Thank you” into her skin.

Adjusting his hold on her hand, Gladio pulled back from the embrace, tugging her in the direction of the caravan that acted as their home lately.  “C’mon, I don’t know when I’ll be told to head out again.  I’d like at least a few hours of downtime.”

Syndra snorted, allowing him to pull her along, her sad smile morphing into an impish grin.  “‘Downtime’?  Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Gladio’s grin reflected her own.  Throwing her a wink, they approached the small caravan, pushing the door open as he tugged her in after him.  Even as his strong arms wrapped around her, his lips hot upon her own, a small part of her couldn’t help but think back to that day in Gralea, and how Gladio had never actually told her how Ardyn had taunted him.

 

* * *

 

Gladio grunted beneath the weight of his Greatsword, swinging it toward the infuriatingly gleeful face of a goblin.  It cackled loudly even as the edge of the bloodstained blade sliced right through its skull, the daemon falling dead in a crumpled heap.  With a snarl, he kicked the body for good measure before it faded into a dark mist, all evidence of its existence vanishing with the desert wind.  It had been close to six months since the Starscourge had officially taken hold of the world, leaving its inhabitants in a perpetual, daemon infested night, and yet they were still no closer to any sort of real solution to the hellscape that was now their home.

Hefting the sword up to rest on his shoulder, Gladio took a moment to catch his breath, sweat gleaming on his forehead in the dim glow of his flashlight.  A chill shot down his spine as a particularly cold gust of desert wind whipped through him, the daemon blood spattered across his arms beginning to dry.

Maybe he really should start wearing heavier clothes.

Gladio frowned, looking back in the direction of Hammerhead, its lights a dull glimmer in the seemingly boundless desert, a dull ache in his chest.  Every time he was called out on a hunt or search and rescue, he was forced to leave Syndra behind, despite every fiber of his being screaming not to.  He knew full well she belonged out here, fighting by his side, doing their damnedest to save as many stragglers as possible from the slavering jaws of the daemons that had overrun the land.  But every time he second-guessed himself, every time he went to call out to her, to tell her to grab her gear, Ardyn’s voice echoed throughout the recesses of his mind.

_“She truly is quite a lovely thing, that lady friend of yours.”_

_“Oh, be careful now! You wouldn’t want to leave her alone in this cruel new world.  Who knows what sort of hellish creatures will make themselves known now?”_

_“You know, I wouldn’t worry so much about how things end up here.  I assure you she will be just fine.  I was never planning on allowing any harm to come to her.”_

_“You’ve no idea how many times I had come so close to taking her for myself.  It won’t be long now before your time with her is up, Gladio.”_

A shiver ran down Gladio’s spine that had nothing to do with the temperature, his grip on the hilt of his Greatsword tightening.  He’d never trusted that bastard, not even with how ‘helpful’ he had been.  It had all been too convenient, too easy.  Why they had gone along with all of his perfectly timed appearances, he still wasn’t entirely sure, but they had been desperate for any sort of guidance, any semblance of good in a world that was quickly crumbling around them.  

The weeks that followed the fall of Insomnia were a blur to Gladio, honestly.  It wasn’t until he had finally met up with Iris again that he fully realized the gravity of the situation.  Their home had been reduced to rubble, the king dead, his  _father_  dead.  After a lifetime of looking to someone else, someone with far more experience and authority, for advice and leadership,  _they_  were suddenly the ones the world looked to.

Looking back on it now, maybe it wasn’t such a surprise that the Chancellor of Niflheim’s help had been so well received among the four of them.

“Hey, Gladio!”  Gladio looked up at the hunter who had joined him on the routine search and rescue, the young man standing on top of a large boulder a few yards away.

Gladio shushed him, listening for a moment before speaking.  “Keep your voice down, kid.  We’re not looking to bring more of those things here.”

“Sorry!” he said, just barely loud enough for Gladio to hear.  “There’s a shack a bit down that way.”  The hunter pointed to somewhere behind him.  “I’m gonna go see if anyone’s holed up in there.  Otherwise, I think this one might be a bust.”

Gladio sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand.  “Yeah.  I’m right behind you.   _Be careful_.”

The young man offered Gladio a vague salute, quietly rushing off in the direction he had indicated.  A small smile appeared on Gladio’s lips.  At least the kid was stealthy.

“My, my.  I thought for sure you knew better than to leave yourself alone and vulnerable like this.  It’s no wonder those friends of yours aren’t around as often as they used to be.”

Before his mind had even fully registered the source of the voice, Gladio spun on his heel, using the momentum from the movement to swing his Greatsword in a wide arc that would have killed a lesser creature.  But as the blade made contact, Ardyn merely stumbled, a soft string of curses falling from his lips.  Gladio’s chest heaved, his eyes wide as he let the blade hit the ground with a dull  _thump_ , the hilt still gripped tightly in his slightly shaking hands.

_Why was he here?  He shouldn’t be here.  Not so close to her._

“Well, then,” Ardyn said, the ever present lilt to his voice causing Gladio’s blood to run cold.  He only just managed to catch a glimpse of inky, black blood before Ardyn wiped it away, not even a hint of whatever injury he had inflicted remaining.  “Not exactly what I’d consider the best ‘hello’ I’ve ever received, but certainly not the worst.”

“What do you want?  Don’t you have a throne to waste away on?”  Gladio ground out, careful to keep his sword between him and the pseudo-man before him.

Ardyn arched an eyebrow, his arms splayed before him as if in a show of peace.  “And not check up on my favorite glorified watchdog?  What sort of man do you take me for?”

“I don’t take you for any sort of  _man_  at all,” Gladio practically growled.

Ardyn hummed in response, bringing a hand up to rub at his scruff laden chin.  “All of this bravado.  I saw none of this when you were dealing with those lowly goblins before.  Is this show just for me?  I’m honored.”

“Cut the shit, Ardyn.  Why are you here?”  Gladio listened carefully for any sign that his companion was making his way back, unsure whether he wanted him here for this or not.

A dark, amused chuckle fell from Ardyn’s lips.  “How very rude.  Certainly no way to speak to your king.  Although, I do recall you giving  _Noct_  a rather harsh tongue lashing or two.  Perhaps that is just how the Amicitias have always spoken to their charges.”

With a deep, guttural yell, Gladio swung the sword again, its weight causing him to stumble as the blade caught nothing but air.  He looked around frantically, growling when the man was nowhere to be found.

“Short on patience lately, are we?”  Gladio spun around, spying Ardyn leaning against a nearby rock, his arms casually crossed over his chest.  “Certainly explains that little episode back at that cozy little gas station of yours.  I was surprised you had even let her out of her cage.  It made much more sense when I realized she had snuck out from under your ever vigilant supervision.”

Gladio froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins.  “What did you say?”  His voice was hardly a whisper, so soft a well-timed gust of wind could have scattered the words across the desert sands.  He had to have heard him wrong.  There’s no way he could know.  Not unless…

“Oh, come now.  You didn’t honestly think I was just going to let you ride off into the sunset with her, did you?”  Ardyn chuckled.  “But I suppose that sunset is a bit metaphorical nowadays, isn’t it?”

“How long?”  Gladio didn’t even bother trying to keep his voice down.  Maybe if he was lucky the daemons he lured here would turn on their master and rip him to pieces.  “How long have you been watching us?”

“‘Us’?  Well, someone certainly thinks highly of himself.”  Ardyn pushed off from the boulder, slowly making his way back toward where Gladio stood.  “I couldn’t care less about you, boy.  Although, I will admit it’s amusing to see what you two get up to.  You might want to make sure the blinds in that little caravan of yours are properly shut, by the way.”

In a blind rage, Gladio lifted the Greatsword, both of his hands tightly wrapped around its hilt, and flung the heavy blade at Ardyn, a howl of pure fury ripped from the very depths of his abdomen.

But the sword passed through empty air.

His aim had been true.  It did not miss its mark, its mark had merely vanished before the blade could make contact, leaving nothing but a shimmering, purple silhouette where Ardyn had once stood.

For a long, tense moment, Gladio stood frozen in place, his eyes wide in a dumbfounded panic.  He had only seen one other person utilize such power, a power that was reserved purely for the sacred rulers of Lucis.

A cold hand landed on Gladio’s bare shoulder, shocking him out of his stupor, but before he could so much as curl his fingers into a fist, a searing hot pain shot from his shoulder and down his right arm.  His vision went white, his knees buckling as he fought to stay conscious.  He couldn’t pass out.  Not out here.  Not with  _him_.

Though he sounded muffled, Gladio could still make out Ardyn’s words as he spoke, “I did warn you that you were living on borrowed time with that girl of yours, didn’t I?  I feel I’ve been generous enough these last few months, allowing you two to live in… relative peace, but I think it’s time I reclaim what’s mine.  You’ve kept her from me for far too long now, and, though, I may be a patient man, even  _my_ patience has its limits.”

Gladio clenched his jaw, his arm held tightly to his stomach as he fought to speak through the pain, the indescribable burning pain that seemed to seep into his every nerve and muscle—but all he could manage was a feral growl, glaring up at Ardyn from where he lay kneeling on the ground at his feet.

“Now, listen carefully,” Ardyn began.  “I’m going to give you the chance to save yourself a lot of grief, and probably even more pain: give her to me.  Take whatever decrepit vehicle you drove out here and head back to that pathetic excuse for a base and bring her to me.”

Slowly, the pain began to ease, allowing Gladio to snarl, “ _Fuck you_.”

“Now, now.  Let me finish before you make your decision.”  Ardyn continued, beginning to circle around Gladio’s hunched form.  “It won’t be pleasant if you decide not to take my offer.  It certainly wasn’t for that dreadful Ravus fellow I was forced to deal with, except this might be a little different.  If you give her to me, she will not only be safe from the daemons that prowl this desert.”  He stooped into a crouch beside Gladio, his coat fluttering slightly from the movement.  “She will be safe from  _you_.”

As Gladio’s head finally cleared, the scalding pain dulling to a constant throb, he met the false king’s amber gaze.  “Like I would trust her to be safe in  _your_  hands.”

Ardyn shrugged, “So long as she behaves.”

Gladio moved to lunge at him, but stilled as another wave of pain shot through his body, forcing a strained grunt from his throat.  

Ardyn smirked.  “As it progresses, the pain will only get worse, Gladio.  And, soon enough, the pain will be the least of your concerns.  What say you, kingsguard?  Selfless martyrdom is hardly fashionable anymore, after all.”

Gladio rested his forehead against the cool, soft earth, the beads of sweat that had formed along his skin causing the sand to stick.  The pain was already far more tolerable than it had been when it first shot through him, most of it centered around where Ardyn’s calloused hand had touched his shoulder.  A small part of him was terrified to see what may lay there.

Could he really trade Syndra’s freedom for his own well-being?  Hand her over to the embodiment of hell itself to save his own skin?  Even just thinking of the possibility caused his chest to tighten unbearably.

A soft chuckle bubbled up from his throat.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ardyn arch an eyebrow.  “You’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands you son of a bitch.”

Ardyn sighed, reaching down to grab Gladio’s chin, none too gently angling his face to meet his gaze, “Then live to see her blood stain your hands.”  He stood, the dry earth crunching beneath his boots as he made to walk away.  “Not to worry, though.  I have one more ace up my sleeve.  I won’t let her fall victim to a daemon’s monstrous appetite so easily.”

Before Gladio could demand an explanation, Ardyn disappeared in a flurry of cloth, leaving him exhausted and alone on the ground of this desolate wasteland.  As he slowly pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling beneath his weight, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had only just damned Syndra to a fate worse than that of the plaything of a power starved demi-god.


	2. The Cracked Shield

“Y’all’re really testin’ my patience lately.”

Cindy stood before the wrecked car, her arms crossed over her chest as she surveyed the damage, a frustrated frown etched into her features.  The poor fool that brought the car to the shop stood there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he purposely looked anywhere but at the small, blonde mechanic.  Syndra sat on Cindy’s workbench inside the garage, watching the scene unfold with an all too amused smile.

Hammerhead had been a mere rest stop and service station in the days before the darkness fell, leaving Cindy with an endless line of rudimentary flat tires and oil changes to attend to.  Sometimes there was a car wreck, leaving her a mess of twisted metal to assess and deem repairable or not, but, occasionally, some sap would come ambling in at sunset, pleading with Cindy to retrieve their broken down car in the morning.  The abandoned car was usually left unscathed by the things that stalked the desert in the night, with only an empty gas tank or flooded engine to rectify, but there were those rare instances where the daemons would unleash their unquenchable fury on the machine, leaving Cindy with far more scrap than car.

Syndra watched Cindy circle around the utterly ruined hood of the jeep, her nose scrunched up in silent thought as she went through the possible repair options in her head. It was riddled with countless dents, deep gashes lining both the driver and passenger side doors, the windshield so terribly smashed that it looked about ready to shatter into countless little pieces.  To Syndra’s untrained eye, the car looked pretty much hopeless, especially given the limited supplies at their disposal nowadays, but Cindy continued her examination, running her deft, calloused fingers along every dent, scratch, and slash in the ruined metal.

Apparently her skills were wasted as a mere rest stop mechanic.

“I can’t promise y’all nothin’,” she said, stooping down to kneel next to the oddly intact front tire as her hand disappeared behind the rough rubber.  “But I’ll see what I can do.  I might need a few supply runs to Lestallum in the meantime, so give yer boys a heads up.”

A sigh of relief escaped the hunter.  He had probably expected the worst.  “Thanks, Cindy.  You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t be thankin’ me yet, boy.”  She rose to her feet, wiping her now oil slick hands off on her already stained, dark sweatpants.  “If the repairs cost more supplies than she’s worth, she’s scrap.”  With a wave of her hand, she walked toward her workbench, wordlessly dismissing the flustered young hunter.

Syndra couldn’t help but offer her own little wave as he left the shop, his fingers sheepishly fidgeting with the hem of his jacket.

The usually bright-eyed mechanic came to stand next to Syndra, leaning back against her workbench as she rubbed roughly at her forehead with the heel of her palm, releasing a long, calming breath through her nose.  

“These hunters’re really pushin’ the limits o’my skills, Syn.”  Despite the weariness in her voice, a bright smile lit up Cindy’s features.  “I think they’re gettin’ a lil’ too reliant on my seemin’ly boundless talent.”

A soft laugh fell from Syndra’s lips.  “Can you blame them?  Anyone else would’ve laughed them out of the garage if they were faced with this scrapheap.”

Cindy huffed a small laugh of her own.  “Well, I defin’tly ain’t bored around here no more.  No time fer it.”

A long, forlorn sigh escaped Syndra, her nails drumming along the well-worn wood of the workbench as she mumbled, “I  _wish_  I had that problem.”

The blonde shot her a warning look, moving to zip up her hoodie as a cold breeze drifted through the workshop.  “No, ya don’t.  And you know that.”

Syndra averted her gaze, looking out into the perpetual night as she awkwardly cleared her throat.  She was right, of course.  Every person out there right now would kill for any shred of boredom to creep back into their lives.  She was just… restless.

“Have you heard anything?”  Syndra suddenly asked, her gaze sliding back to Cindy as the other woman pulled on her work gloves.  “I mean about how it’s going out there.  None of the scouts will tell me anything.”

Cindy scoffed.  “No doubt at your beau’s demand, I’m guessin’.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Syndra shrugged anyway.

Cindy shook her head. “Damn fool’s doin’ more harm than good keepin’ you in the dark.  I get it, but it still ain’t right.”  The blonde shot her a knowing glance.  “‘Specially since it probably makes you want to sneak out on your own more’n anythin’.”

A small, sheepish smile spit Syndra’s features.  Whoops.  Apparently she wasn’t as stealthy as she thought.

A giggle filled the air as Cindy reached forward to ruffle Syndra’s red hair.  “Don’tchu worry.  I ain’t tellin’.  Not like Gladdy dearest don’t already know if that fight the other day weren’t no indication.”

“Ah,” Syndra’s cheeks heated slightly as she smacked Cindy’s hand away.  “You heard about that.”

“Hon, I didn’t just hear  _about_  it, I  _heard_  it.”  The grin on her face was genuine.  “When’re y’all gonna learn that it’s impossible to keep much’ve anything private in this place.”

The heat in Syndra’s cheeks flared as she awkwardly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  She’d have to talk to Gladio later.  “The patrols, Cindy.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said.  “The daemons certainly ain’t decreasin’, that’s fer sure.  There was a surge ‘a activity around Lestallum a few days ago, but from what I’ve heard it’s been mostly contained.”

Syndra’s eyes widened as panic seized at her heart.  Lestallum.  Iris was there.  Aelan was there.  So was Talcott.  And the remnants of the kingsguard.   _Everyone_  was there.

Cindy must have seen the look on her face, because she quickly added, “It was expected, they said!  They were more’n prepared for daemons to target the city.  Not only does it got most’ve the refugees in Lucis, but with that powerplant they got, it’s the biggest threat to any daemons in the area.”  She booped Syndra on the nose, her easy grin wavering.  “Don’tchu worry, a’right?  Despite everythin’, we got things under control.”

A scowl crossed Syndra’s face as she leaned back on the workbench, her back hitting the aluminum wall with a dull  _bang_.  “I could be helping.”

There was a brief silence between them, Cindy turning to face the large assortment of tools laid out on the table before she spoke again.  “He means well, ya know.  I know it’s hard, but he’s tryin’ his best.”

“I feel useless here, Cind,”  Syndra watched the mechanic sort through tools both large and small, not even bothering to attempt to identify anything that wasn’t a hammer or screwdriver.  She had never been all that handy.  “Look at this mess they brought in!”  She gestured to the wrecked car, Cindy not even looking up from the table.  “Look at what they’re dealing with!  For months now we’ve been in an ‘all hands on deck’ situation, and yet I’ve been doing nothing but sitting on my ass as hunters get torn to shreds.”

Cindy settled on a blowtorch, testing the spark before she met her gaze, a gentle smile painted on her lips.  “You’ve certainly been doin’ more’n that.  I’d’ve gone stir crazy by now if Gladio hadn’t dropped you on my doorstep.”  

Her smile faltered slightly when she was met with nothing but an aggravated stare from the smaller woman.  

“Look,” she sighed, setting aside the blowtorch.  “I don’t know much about the situation, Gladio wasn’t exactly all too forthcomin’ with… whatever the deal is.” 

Syndra rolled her eyes.  Figures.  Gladio seemed to keep everyone in the dark lately.  She inwardly scoffed.  Ironic.

“But!”  Cindy quickly interjected.  “I do know that Gladio ain’t one to overreact, and he certainly ain’t one to go askin’ people for help all that easily.  He’s the King’s Shield, babe.  His whole  _thing_  is bein’ calm and cool under pressure.”

Syndra opened her mouth to respond, but the words died on her tongue.  She hadn’t even considered that. Gladio had always prided himself on his ability to keep a cool head even when faced with the worst circumstances.  He needed to be able to guide the king through hell and back should the worst ever come to pass, should the king’s own reason fail him.

Her gut tightened almost painfully, her mind wandering back to his time in Gralea.  His time under Ardyn’s thumb.

_What did he say to you, Gladio?_

“So just cut him a bit ‘a slack, a’right?”  Cindy fitted the blowtorch safety mask to her head, the mask itself not yet pulled down over her face, leaving her sympathetic half-smile in full view.  “Not much slack, ‘cause he’s bein’ a bit of a stubborn ass about keepin’ you cooped up in here, but a bit.  It’s comin’ from a genuine place ‘a worry, I think.”  She paused, seeming to gauge Syndra’s reaction before continuing.  “But I think you knew that already.”

Cindy was about to pull the mask down over her face and get to work when a hunter, a slightly older man with a lot more beard than the one that brought the car in, jogged into the shop.  “Hey, Syn.  Gladio’s back if you wanna see him.”

Syndra quickly glanced at Cindy for the go ahead.  She didn’t want to leave her friend in the middle of a conversation, but considering that the mask was already pulled down over her face, the blow torch roaring to life, Syndra assumed she was dismissed.  Cindy was never really one for company while she worked.

Hopping down from the workbench, she thanked the hunter and headed out of the garage, the smell of burning rubber already floating on the cool wind as the mechanic got to work.  Stepping out onto the compound, Syndra was unnerved by how quiet it was.  Cindy’s garage usually had some sort of sound going in the background, whether it be one of her various tools or even just her friendly chit-chat.  But out in the open, cool air of Hammerhead, the silence was always oppressive.  Everyone feared that to speak in anything more than a hushed whisper was to attract the daemon hordes held back by little more than the bright beams of the floodlights surrounding the stronghold’s perimeter.  

It was precisely that consistent dread tainting the air that had drawn her to Cindy’s shop in the first few weeks of her stay.

Much to her relief, spotting Gladio was easy enough—he was easily the biggest man stationed at Hammerhead—but she waited off to the side as he spoke to another hunter, his back straight and his shoulders weirdly stiff.

She quirked an eyebrow at his posture, watching him carefully.  The air was colder than usual, probably thanks to the consistent lack of sunlight for months on end, causing Gladio to  _finally_  don his favored leather jacket.  Syndra would have been grateful under normal circumstances—she had only been telling him for ages to wear something more than a flimsy sleeveless shirt while out on hunts—but she didn’t particularly care for the fact that the jacket now concealed most of his body from view.  The first thing she did every time he came back from an assignment was rake her eyes over him, assuring herself that he was safe and in one piece.

Being denied that simple consolation left her shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

Gladio’s posture was usually relaxed, his arms crossed casually over his broad chest as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, but now he stood straight, his shoulders tense and slightly hunched forward.  Almost as if he was afraid the wrong movement would send a burst of pain through him.

Syndra began to chew at her pinky nail, her blood pumping loudly in her ears as she willed the hunter to finish up the conversation and leave.  She should have been out there.  She should have been with him.  Whenever he was called up for an assignment, he was paired off with whatever hunters were available.  She had no idea how reliable they were, and certainly none of them knew Gladio’s fighting style, his weak points, when he was most vulnerable when swinging that giant blade of his.

She should have been there.

With a quick glance in her direction—and watching as she ate away at the last bit of her pinky nail—Gladio dismissed the hunter with a curt nod, probably with the promise that the rest of his report would come later.  As he made his way over to her, Syndra carefully watched his gait, noting anything out of place.  He walked with a bit of a limp, as if his knee was smarting with each step, his jaw clenched tight enough to cause a flicker of muscle along his scruff covered cheek.  As he drew closer, she noticed streaks of dirt along his forehead, like he had tried to wipe it away in a hurry.

He didn’t even stop walking before she spoke.  “What happened.”

It wasn’t a question.  He laughed—or tried to, a slight wince flickering across his face at the movement.  “Nice to see you, too, babe.”

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze unwavering as she stared him down.  “I’m serious, Gladio.  What happened?”

“ _Relax_ , Syn,” he drawled, his voice steady and even.  “The kid I was with went off ahead of me to search for survivors and I found myself staring down a bitch of a Naga.”

Syndra’s eyes widened, her blood turning to ice in her veins.  “He left you  _alone_?”

A gruff sigh—or was that a grunt?—escaped the larger man, his left hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.  “I’m fine, aren’t I?  It’s better he wasn’t with me.  He’s just a kid.  The biggest thing he’s fought so far is a goblin.  He woulda pissed himself had he seen this thing.”

“That’s not the goddamn point, Gladio,” she snapped, her head spinning.  Alone.  He had been  _alone_ out there.  “The whole point in sending you guys out at least two at a time is so someone is always watching your back!  And this isn’t just about you!  What if he had run into the Naga instead?  If he’s that inexperienced he’d be dead.  The fact that you aren’t is nothing less than a fuckin’ miracle.”

“He was the only one available at the time,” he ground out.  He looked so tired, the now perpetual bags under his eyes deeper than they had been when he set out.  The ice in her veins began to thaw—though only slightly.

“No, he wasn’t,” she said, only just barely reigning in the bite to her voice.

His gaze hardened, the scars that lined his face deepening.  “ _Yes_ , he was.”

Even now, even after a blatantly stupid, completely avoidable mistake, he still refused to let up, still refused to let her out of her cage.  She was suffocating in here, forced to sit and wait for him to come back every day, left to waste her days away praying to long silent gods that he would make it back in one piece.  It was selfish.  Pure and utter selfish paranoia.

“What did he say to you?” Her voice was low, trembling with just barely contained rage.  “What the fuck did Ardyn say to you to set you so  _thoroughly_  on edge?”

Gladio’s eyes widened a fraction, his nostrils flaring.  “He was obsessed with you—”

“No,” she interrupted him, surprised when he actually fell silent.  “We knew that long before the world went to shit.  Last I recall, you shrugged pretty non-fuckin’-chalantly when I mentioned that that peacock had approached me on more than one occasion.  What did he  _say_  to you?”  

She saw a flicker of pain cross his face, but something told her it had nothing to do with whatever injuries he was hiding.  “He’s just…clearly stronger than we thought at the time.”  His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze falling to her feet.  “We underestimated him, trusted him, and it cost us a lot.  I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

Syndra ground her teeth, her jaw aching as she fought to keep her anger in check.  That was neither an answer nor an outright denial.  He was hiding something, but she was growing tired of trying to drag it out of him.  

She took a deep breath, attempting to quell the fire raging in her belly.  She didn’t particularly feel like being the talk of Hammerhead again.

“Whatever, Gladio,” she finally said, her chest tight with restrained rage.  “Just remember that if you die out there, I’ll be left alone here.  Who will keep me from Ardyn’s clutches then,  _kingsguard_?”

As she stormed away, not even bothering to look over her shoulder, she knew she had hurt him, knew she had stooped lower than she ever had before in her anger. Guilt began to burn away at her heart, her stomach churning as nausea began to creep up and into her throat, worsening with every step she took, the taste of bile hot on her tongue.  

The fact that Gladio didn’t even attempt to call her back only made that hollowness in her chest widen into a gaping void.

 

* * *

 

_She didn’t ask to see it._

That was the only thought running through Gladio’s head, relief flooding over him like ice-water.  She hadn’t asked to see his injuries, hadn’t demanded he peel off his clothes so she could see them for herself, hadn’t run her fingers over every inch of him, assuring herself he was still alive and safe with her.

His chest tightened.  She was mad.  Mad enough to fling such a vile insult his way.  Never, not since he had come back from Gralea, had she so much as uttered the word ‘kingsguard’ in his presence, well aware of how the title hung around his neck like a noose, tightening with every day Noctis did not walk through the gates of Hammerhead alive and unharmed.

A white hot pain shot down his arm and up to the base of his skull, nearly bringing him to his knees.  He grunted as he stumbled toward the small alleyway between the diner-turned-armory and Cindy’s garage, hiding in the shadows that clung to the walls. It would pass.  Just like all the others.  Just like it had in the two hours it took to get back to Hammerhead.  The pain would pass, and he’d be fine.

His teeth ached as he clenched his jaw against the sharp cry that threatened to be ripped from his throat.  Beads of sweat began to soak the lining of his jacket as he slumped against the cool exterior of the diner.  Maybe he should have brought her with him, maybe they could have taken him together.  She was always so much faster than him, able to weave in and out of an opponent’s attacks like water.  Maybe he could have served as a distraction, drawn Ardyn’s attention while she struck, driving her daggers into his neck and severing that sneering face from his body.

“ _You’ve no idea how many times I had come so close to taking her for myself.”_

He wrenched his eyes shut, willing Ardyn’s voice out of his skull with whatever strength remained in his pain-wracked body.  She could be angry, she could hate him until the sun finally rose above that nonexistent horizon, so long as it meant she was out of that  _monster’s_  reach.

The pain began to subside, his desperate gasps for air easing into soft pants as he slid down along the outer wall of the diner and onto the ground, leaning his head back against it with a dull  _thump_.  He could do this.  He could fight this.  He wouldn’t become one of them.  That’s not how this worked.  Ardyn couldn’t  _make_  daemons.  The very idea was insane.

But still, even as Gladio repeated the words to himself over and over again, he gently slid his jacket from his right shoulder, carefully turning his still aching neck to glance at the spot Ardyn had touched with that ice-cold, calloused hand.  Despite himself, he was surprised to find that he felt nothing upon spying a small, sickly looking black mark, the veins around it pulsing a deep, inky black beneath his skin.  

He slowly eased the jacket back over his throbbing shoulder, allowing his head to fall back against the wall as he gazed up into the starless sky, his eyes stinging with tears that he refused to release.


End file.
